In the Life of Pre-Teen Drama Queen Taylor Skarr

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Tag Archives: February

Tummy Crunches: – [Too busy worrying myself sick about the championship to even sit up straight]

I was away at my Grandparent’s place for a few days. Mum sent me to there so I could “get my mind off the competition.” As if!! I spent every waking moment at Gran’s wishing that the world would end before the tournament even begins.

Got to stop writing. The train for Miami [where the thing is being held] leaves tomorrow morning at eight. And I’ve got to pack.

Like this:

SIXTY-THREE???????????? I COULD ONLY MANAGE A MEASLY SIXTY THREE TUMMY CRUNCHES LAST NIGHT??????????????? GAWD, AM I A SICKLY TWELVE-YEAR OLD OR A FIERCE KARATEKA???????????? HUH??????????????????????????

Like this:

There’s a simple reason to why I haven’t mentioned Brandy or my upcoming karate championship since I first mentioned the both of them.

And thats because even talking about those two subjects makes the hair on my neck go stiff as a whitewashed fence.

But this morning when I woke up, I realized I was being just plain silly. I mean, what is even the POINT of having a journal if you can’t write about anything and everything in it??

So I decided that today is the day I come clean, spill my GUTS out.

Why??

Well, because a part of me feels that if I write it down, if I put my feelings on paper, I’ll feel a bit better about the situation. Okay, and maybe the part of me that feels that way is real desperate and is as crazy as Sir Nate. But it can’t hurt to try, right??

So. Let’s start with talking about >Eeni Meeni Mynee Mo…< Brandy.

Boy, is she the most annoying being I have set my eyes on or what?? I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I am GLAD Kathryn is my sibling. Because what if they switched places and I got BRANDY as a sister instead?? >GULP!!!<

The thing is, sometimes she ain’t SO bad. For example, when I was finishing up my breakfast today, she poked my elbow and said [in that sickly sweet voice that she uses to melt the adult’s hearts], ‘I made this for you, Taylor!!’ I felt my blood shoot down to my toes [because, let me just remind you, that her so-called “gift” could have been ANYTHING, ranging from a time-bomb with two seconds left to ERUPT LIKE YELLOWSTONE to a dried piece of extra stinky cow-dung].

‘Gee, thanks,’ I mumbled, pressing the parcel to my ear to make sure that it wasn’t a timed explosive.

‘OPEN IT!!’ She screeched, thumping her palms on the table. ‘OK, OK,’ I said, still shaking from the impact of her fist-banging fit. Slowly unwrapping the shimmering pink paper. ‘Aww,’ Mum cooed from behind me when I revealed what lay inside; a multi-chromed bracelet that had “Tailor Is My Faworit Sis” imprinted on it.

It’s hard to explain what went through my mind at that moment. A part of me thought that this was just apart of her little act to prove to my parents that she is this cute little angel, pure as the driven snow. But what I turned to look at her, I couldn’t help but notice that little gleam in her eyes, like she was waiting for me to say something. I don’t know what came over me, but I spread out my arms and said, ‘Come here, you,’

Well. -This is awkward- We had this little hugathon. [DON’T EVER MENTION THIS IN FRONT OF ME OR I’LL TWIST YOUR EYEBALLS OUT OF YOUR SOCKETS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!] And sure, it was a little weird. I mean, I’ve spent practically all my life not liking this little twit.

But people change right??

Who am I kidding?? Brandy isn’t just “a little girl.” She’s more evil than a hundred Cruella De Vil’s!! I bet that right now, she is huddled up in a corner of the room, giggling over how she managed to trick me into believing she even had a sliver of niceness in her.

I’d better start writing about the National tournament now. Because that’s been eating me up since Sensei Whyatt mentioned it a few weeks ago.

It’s not like we haven’t trained hard, because Lord knows we have. Since last Monday, as per Sensei Whyatt’s instructions, we’ve been having daily karate sessions that have been nothing but strenuous. One guy, Patrick Miller, I think his name is, actually fainted yesterday, while we were doing the pull-ups.

Speaking of body conditioning, Sensei has ALSO commanded us to do fifty sit-ups every night before we go to bed and increase the number by five every day. Man, my stomach was ready to just BURST open on the first night. I half expected to see my intestines dangling out of my PJ’s.

You cannot IMAGINE the pain. The intense, powerful, absolute pain that surges through my body as I struggle to pull myself upwards.

I’m just SO nervous, you know?? After the epic FAIL of my previous competition, I really have to up my standard, do everything brilliantly. I should be on everybody’s mind as they leave the arena. And not as the girl who broke the world record for the most number of consecutive losses at a National Tournament either, but as “that girl who delivered such a mind-blowing performance that, even though I hate physical exertion more than diets, I’m totally gonna join that karate class that’s opposite school in hope that maybe one day Ill be as good as her.”

SO scared. If I don’t do well, I’ll be CRUSHED. I can’t deal with another disappointment. Face it, I’ve NEVER lost. Class prefect elections?? I’m voted valedictorian. Math pop quiz?? I top my standard. Martial Arts exam?? I break the all-time dojo record for most gold medals won in a single day.

Maybe that’s my problem. I just don’t know how to deal with failure, because I’ve never had to. Until the previous contest, that is. That’s probably why it came as such a blow. I never expected to even come SECOND in class.

Anyway, thanks for listening, DeDe. It’s not like you had a choice or anything, but it sure felt nice to spill about stuff that’s been bugging me of late. I’ve got to go practice my karate moves for a bit now.

Oh, who am I kidding?? I CLAIM that I’m going to go practice, but I’ll probably be distracted by something or the other and spend my evening watching How I Met Your Mother with a bowl of Butterscotch ice cream.

Like this:

Because Mum told me that I’m spending WAY too much time scribbling in it. But isn’t that why she asked Dad’s sister to buy it for me in the first place?? And I DO NOT spend a lot of time with my journal. Yeah, sure I flip through it a few times a day and doodle all around the borders and fill up the pages with my weird, illegible handwriting and…

OK, so maybe I do spend quite a while with it.

But isn’t that WHY Aunt Maribel bought it for me?? So that I can “open out to it” and “finally have someone to talk to who wouldn’t immediately tell everyone about my secrets”?? [Her words]

Basically, this is what has happened;

Aunt M gifted me something I never even wanted. Something that, if other people found out about, could mean the end of my life. Something that was so embarrassing, I even toyed with the idea of flushing it down [but the toilet would get clogged and then Mum would go out and buy me a new Diary anyway]. Something that also, in a way, made me look forward to. In other words, a diary.

[In Middle School language, that’s like saying she gave me the cooties. Only worse]

But is that enough?? NO, of COURSE not. Not only do I now have a book with “My Sweet Journal” plastered all over it [Seriously. What AM I, SIX??] but now I’m supposed to WRITE in it or I get PUNISHED. PUNISHED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So, being the extremely awesome daughter that I am, I decide to do it, but just to get Aunt Maribel out of my hair.

But is THIS ENOUGH???????? NOOOOOOOOOOO, it ISN’T. When I actually start WRITING in it [like they TOLD ME TO], they turn around, say, ‘You know what?? Maybe this was a bad idea from the start. Maybe we should have listened to COLOSSALLY BRILLIANT Taylor when she said that this was a stupid plan,’ and then GROUND me for LISTENING TO THEM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Like this:

The camp was EX-CE-LENT. At least, it was WAY better than I dared to hope it would be. [Then again, when it comes to my SCHOOL, my expectations are so low, it goes into NEGATIVES]

Maybe we [as in Chantal, Ashley and I] got of to a rocky start [what with us being mistaken for Scouts and shoved in the eighth-grade-guy’s bus for the journey to the campsite], but things TOTALLY smoothened out in the end.

There were a few down parts to the trip [like when some of our classmates got this close to being KIDNAPPED] but it sure had its share of awesomeness.

Let’s start our story at the moment when all of us were instructed to alight our vehicles [because narrating the trip to the Nature Resort is WAAAAY too painful. I mean, you’d at least expect the EIGHTH GRADERS to be a wee-bit more mature that, I don’t know, THREE YEAR OLDS, wouldn’t you?? But NOOOO, that would be asking for too much, apparently].

In all honesty, the camp was less rough-n-tough than I’d have prefered. For example, we didn’t sleep in tents. Well, it did basically boil down to a piece of cloth nailed to the ground to form a triangular space under which we had to sleep. But instead of feeling bits of rock and flint under your body as you lay down, you felt this cold surface, because we were ordered to set up our tents on slabs of cement.

[How absolutely campy, right??]

After arranging our luggage in allotted sleeping quarters, we trooped off to the “Mess” which is [appropriately named and] basically another name for the dining area. I’ll agree, breakfast wasn’t five-star-hotel quality, but I’m guessing regular, steaming hot meals is better than grilling a dead rabbit you shot in the woods over an open fire. And then EATING it.

Anyway, the rest of the day just passed by in these weird “session” thingys. I’m not really sure what the point of those were, because all we really did was gather around this stage and listen to the “State’s leading Scout Master” talk about… well, nothing at all. [Doesn’t make sense?? Read on…]

For starters, he was more like a raging lunatic. Which sane guy rambles on choosing T.V’s over refrigerators for half an hour?? It had NOTHING to do with ANYTHING [and even less to do with Girl Guides] and he made NO SENSE WHATSOEVER!!!

[Isn’t it weird how our school ALWAYS picks the worst role models to give us lectures on the most insane topics on the planet??]

Oh, and the way his arms and legs all flapped about in this ridiculous trademark style… I think he was trying to be funny but even if he was, I can assure you, he was failing agonizingly.

One of the only good parts of the first day was that glorious hour when we played football. Pure, unadulterated football. Oh, it was like eating chocolate in HEAVEN. Delicious and out of this world, all at the same time.

It was a seventh-versus-eighth grade match, and we were totally KILLING IT out there. At the end of the first half, we were up, 2-0. The second part of the game was a wee bit more complicated. You see, Chantal, Ashley and I were the ONLY girls on field. Every other female was either gossiping or treating herself to a mani-pedi.

Well, while we were playing, one of the students tripped Ashley [purposely. I saw it with my own eyes. Okay, maybe that statement is not making you as confident as I want you to be feeling, considering how I wear glasses and all, but STILL] and she fell face-down, her features twisted in pain. Turns out, the culprit was none other than Kyle Morgan, grandson of our school’s President.

But when I saw my friend lying there, squirming in the mud, all I could think of was how he had just hurt her [deliberately]. I saw RED, burning in front of my eyes, and all I wanted to do was get my hands on that little #$*@^%!! So I huffed over to where he was standing, clasped my hands on his shoulder and turned him around to face me. Then, without thinking, >SMACK<!!

The next thing I saw was red, too. Only this time, it was gushing from Kyle’s nose. ‘Uh oh,’ I thought, as the sudden reality of what just happened began sinking in. Did I just-

Oh yeah, I did.

To be more precise, I did it. In my head. Fortunately for me, what I thought had just happened didn’t happen at all. Ashley never fell. Kyle never made her. And I never disfigured him.

PHEW!!

But, all the same, I couldn’t help wondering if I’d been made to play that scene in my head for a REASON. So, just to be sure, I marched over to the son of a President and said, ‘Yo, Kyle man, stay away from my buddies.’ He just nodded at me blankly.

But did I learn from my mistake [that never actually was]?? Of course not.

Just as I kicked the ball and sent it flying to the other side of the ground, ‘I heard one of the guys comment, ‘Not bad. For a GIRL.’

And that REALLY set me off.

I was so mad, I’m guessing there was smoke pouring out of my ears. And maybe even my nostrils. But I didn’t care. I just wanted to SMASH the IDIOT who had DARED to even THINK that he was MARGINALLY better than US GIRLS!!!

Approaching him, I bellowed, ‘Hey LOSER. What do you mean “for a GIRL??”‘ I demanded. He spun around with this partly nervous partly casual expression and went, ‘I meant, for a GIRL. Is it really so hard to understand??’ By now, a small ring of kids had encircled us and were chanting, ‘Fight! Fight!! FIGHT!!!’

[This is where two years of karate experience comes into play]

What I did next was something I’m sure Gandhi would NOT approve of. But it had to be done. I was doing this for all the females out there, being dismissed because of their gender.

I, fast as lightning, bolted over to the guy, shot my arm out till it lightly tapped his stomach and retreated as quickly as possible.

Thanks to natural ability, I am speedy. But it’s only due to those twice-a-week martial art classes that I had any idea how I should have punched him so he feels the impact, but not too much. So he gets hurt, but doesn’t start bleeding. So he feels enraged, but not enough to fight back.

All it took was that brisk rap, and I’d done it. I’d won over the camp.

The place erupted with my name and I basked in its glory. My opponent was clutching his stomach, but that was only because of the suddenness, the shock that I’d actually try to attempt a blow. I was sure that within a minute, he would be back to normal, this incident half-erased from his mind. But for that second, for that period [how ever short]… It was Taylor Time.

‘Taylor, the mayor called. He wants you to represent the United States of America for boxing at the 2016 Olympics!’

‘Omigosh!! Carly, did you SEE that?? THAT GIRL kicked Peter’s BUTT!!’

‘WHAT A NIGHT IT HAS BEEN AT THIS YEAR’S WWF!!’

I was pretty sure that I would be the talk of the town for the night, but what I REALLY wanted at the moment was to get back to the game. So when I heard someone shout, ‘Punch his face! Punch his face!!’ I replied, ‘I would NOT do that to my hand.’ It took a moment for that to fully register, and then everyone was laughing. Even Grouchy Gus, who isn;t called Grouchy Gus for nothing.

‘Hey, Macklemore,’ I yelled to the weird guy in the animal fur trimmed jacket who was holding the football. ‘Pass the ball. Let’s get this game STARTED!!’

After that, the match was back in full swing. We won, bu with a 4-3 score, so I’d say that for the last five minutes or so, it was anyone’s game.

Nothing of much importance happened till twelve o’clock. All the student were supposed to be sleeping, but for us girls, the night had just begun.

‘What do you say we plan an invasion on the Scouts??’ Mindy Greene from the eighth suggested, as all the Guides grouped up by the first tent [as planned]. ‘Totally. We do that, like, every single year, and it always rocks,’ someone from the back said and it was decided; we were officially going to break into the Scout camp.

Well, it was more like the Scout’s part of ground, as all that really separated the boys and us was a few bushes and the Mess. Oh, and the extremely rockin’ activity course that we were all scheduled to try out the next day.

Of course, we had to do it in perfect silence as there were teachers posted all around the place, but we were so excited to be actually breaking the rules for once [and having other people back us] that we didn’t really think about that.

Unfortunately, the Scouts were having a similar discussion right about then, but we didn’t know that then, obviously.

Anyway, it was all planned out. One girl would sneak up to the Mess and give a warning cry is there was any sign of danger. If not, she would yell out an arranged hoot and the rest of the girls would stealthily follow.

I was that girl.

So I made my way towards the warmly lit cafeteria. As quiet as a super silent dishwasher. And when I realized that there was no immediate trouble nearby, I hooted.

That’s when I saw it. And I tried sending out a warning cry. But all that came out was this croak. I was too astonished to do anything but croak. Because suddenly I noticed that I wasn’t alone.

Just as the other girls came up to where I was, they revealed themselves. The guys.

How could I have been so idiotic?? DUH they were going to lie in wait!! [Actually, not so Duh. Becasue I could think of a million other things I would rather be doing if I were them. But, whatever]

Soon, it was just like in the movies. You know, one herd of people on one side, another group of people on the other. We detested them and something told me the feeling was mutual.

And you know what we did?? We just stood there. Sure, we stood there baring our teeth and all. But we just stood there. ‘Um. Are we supposed to do something?’ I whispered to the girl next to me. ‘No. We just stand here,’ she replied. At first, I thought she was being sarcastic.